Nobody lets it go. We spend the better part of two hours in the car, and nobody forgets for more than ten seconds that I would promised I'd tell them about Spencer. I try to ask about Stéphane's secret girlfriend. He says she's not a secret girlfriend but a fling. Caro latches onto that but Bastien is persistent. I bring up Bastien's relationship with the girl at the gun range, I ask about the girl he brought to the wedding, I try to bring up the trouble Bastien and Stéphane got up to after Caro left the wedding, and truly, really, nothing works. Nada.

"I'm not sure where we stand," I finally admit, only because we are ten minutes away according to Bastien's GPS. "I told him not to tell anyone about us. That... well that we were an accident."

Stéphane shakes his head in the front seat, "and did you apologize?"

My silence answers for me.

Even though Bastien is driving, he reaches back toward me and flicks my knee. I glare at him, and he glances back at me through the rearview mirror. Stéphane chastises him, and Bastien starts to argue back. Caro takes my hand.

"Why do you think it's an accident?" she asks. "Because you are coworkers? Because you want to leave Washington? Or is it because you don't want to let him in close?"

"It could be because she's an idiot," Bastien offers.

Caro kicks his seat. Stéphane snaps at her too.

"I don't know," I admit. "All of the above? I don't want him to know about what happened because he'll stare at me. You all remember how everyone stared at me after it happened. And I don't want to leave but I'm worried I will, and I'm worried that I'm not exactly in a good place to screw someone, let alone my co-worker."

Stéphane twists his head, "ew. Cole, nasty."

"Prude," Bastien cuts him off.

Caro rolls her eyes before she looks at me, "I didn't tell Cletus until after he decided on the May wedding date. Well, I agreed to it, but I didn't want to send the save the dates. He kept asking me to send them. I just... I couldn't. It wasn't until I had to send them in January that I finally told him."

I squeeze her hand.

"I told a few ex-girlfriends," Stéphane admits. "The first was when there was the custody issue happening and I was trying to explain why Bastien and Caro were better off with me, and then another when she came home late at night without telling me where she was. As soon as I told them, I knew we wouldn't last. They just... the way they looked at me. Like I was wounded. Not broken. Like they knew exactly how to fix me."

"I told some friends in high school," Bastien offers. "After Dad died. They were worried I'd move back to Québec. Then I had a fight with George, and he made a joke about it. And I snapped. I knew that telling anyone would only make me seem weak."

Caro lets go of my hand. She leans forward in the car, over the middle seat. This time, Stéphane doesn't tell her to sit down. She fiddles with the radio, turning the stations. We are closer to where she lives now, so she'd know what stations play good music. After a few clicks, a jazz radio station comes on. Bastien laughs. Caro leans back next to me, and both of us watch how Stéphane's hands move as he taps his seatbelt.

Two songs play before we pull over. The road looks like any other. None of us had committed to actually crossing the border, and Caro hasn't even brought her passport. The car stops slowly as Bastien parks. I bolt out of the car, barely undoing my seatbelt before I'm running across the ground.

It's not cold out. In my head, Québec is only cold. When the snow comes it stays, and so winter lasts for half the year. Six months. I never spent a summer in Québec, never had cousins to go up and visit, a mémé or a pépé that I missed. All there was to think of were winters and basements and pixie cuts and hockey. I'm sure there are happy memories buried somewhere in there. It must be hot in Québec, even in the town where we lived. It's June. The trees are full of leaves.

The car doors slam shut behind me. We aren't on the border. This road doesn't cross it, though there is no fence between our two countries. I duck into the trees.

"Cole!" I hear Stéphane's voice.

The woods are thick, and I push further and further. They scrape against my bare arms, one snags on my shirt and I snap the twig. My face stings from the sharp edges of the thicket as I race through the forest.

Then, it brakes. I stand in front of a lake. Not a large one, but one that is half in New Hampshire, half in Québec. I can see it. The trees don't look any different on their side than mine. I don't see anymore maple. If I didn't know where I was standing, I might not even recognize it.

"Idiot," I hear Bastien as he gets up beside me.

His arms are scrapped raw. He stares at me, before licking his thumb and rubbing it on my face. He's bigger than I am now, so I have to wrestle out of his grip.

"Stop," he says, pulling his finger back. "You're bleeding. I wanted to check if it was sap."

There is blood on his finger. I touch my own face, feeling the small cut. Face cuts tend to heal fine, although they bleed a lot. I try to wipe it off, since the cut is so small and it feels superficial. Stéphane and Caro aren't here yet.

I pull my phone out of my pocket. Bastien sits on the ground at the edge of the lake while I thumb through my contacts. Finally, my finger's hover over Reid's name. I could call him.

Stéphane and Caro make it through the trees and I shove my phone back in my pocket. Stéphane looks at me, shaking his head. Neither he nor Caro have a scrape, "don't run through trees. Are you crazy?"

"Just fast, Ranger Bouchard," Bastien snaps back.

I ignore them, staring at Québec. It still doesn't look any different. I don't know why, but I'm expecting something to change. Maybe Québec will remember it's supposed to be cold, and all the leaves with bruise orange and red and then slip from the branches.

Caro steps next to me, and then Stéphane on the other side of her. I see it in his eyes, how he looks at Québec. He has never liked big cities, but I know he loves Montréal. Maybe he'd live there too, if things were different. Bastien and I would be states-side, I imagine. But Caro and Stéphane would go back. Only one winter in Québec and that is their home.

It works out okay though. They are my home. I guess even if they were in Québec. I've stayed for them. One day, I would go back for them too.

"And now?" Bastien looks up at us. "What are we doing?"

I take in a deep breath. Then, I scream. Caro flinches, bumping into Stéphane. Bastien laughs beside us.

The sound dies out. I expected birds to fly away, nature to be disturbed. Leaves to fall. Winter to rush in. Nothing.

"Cole," Stéphane begins, his voice already cautionary.

Bastien screams beside us. Caro jumps again. I join in his cries, screaming with him. Stéphane sighs beside us. Pressure builds in my forehead. It feels hot, burning. I fucking hate all of this. No one could miss it now. Someone would notice if I was gone. All of them see it. They've been here with me this whole time.

I scream again. Bastien joins in, jumping off the ground and screaming. He grabs both of my shoulders, shaking them. My lungs die out. I laugh, light-headed, and he whoops.

Stéphane turns to glare at us, "are you-"

Caro screams. I flinch, nearly toppling into Bastien. She screams loud and high, and I swear I hear something move in Québec. Bastien joins in with her. He keeps screaming, and she shouts Québecois expletives at the trees. I scream again. My throat begins to burn. I could never be cold here. Even in the dead of a Québec winter. I don't think I know what being cold means anymore.

Stéphane screams. Caro flinches and Bastien laughs and then we are all screaming together. A chorus, a jazz band, a quartet.

I don't think I'll be able to talk tomorrow. It doesn't matter. I'm speaking French now, and when I go home I don't know that I would ever be able to express myself properly in English. This tongue, one that I learned at the same time as English. It is half of me. If I'm not able to express in it, then that part of me is hidden. Colette Morel was supposed to die and yet she lives.

He didn't take her from me. No one, not even Him could take her.

When we are done, we all agree to leave. The three of them talk in French while I pull out my phone. My fingers hover over Reid's name again. I shouldn't call him.

And I don't. Instead, I send him a text.

I have learned a new magic trick. Can I show you Monday night? At Denny's?

It doesn't matter if he answers. The trees don't need to shift. I'm here screaming, and at least I'm able to do that.

We pile into Bastien's car and drive home. Stéphane and I have flights booked for that evening, not together though. Caro heads back to her place, Stéphane and I go to the airport, and then we all are apart again. Well, at least partially apart. Not completely separated from one another, not even when my phone is in airplane mode while I touch down in Washington. Maybe I won't ever feel alone again.

Even Reid feels close, somehow. As close as he always has. When I turn off airplane mode, there is a missed call from him. I listen to the voicemail while I wait for a taxi.

"Hey, Cole," I can't tell if his voice is more shaky than usual or if it's just a bad connection. "I... I'm flying out Monday night, but if I'm back in time I will let you know. Denny's sounds... well, last time we went you told me no one could know you were fun. And I'd like it if... well, just give me a call back when you can."

The cab pulls up. It's late Saturday night so I don't call him back. I don't let it go though.

When I enter my apartment, trying to move quietly since I don't want Estelle hounding me about my disappearance, I debate calling him. I shouldn't. It's not that late. Just, I should collect my thoughts first. I don't want to word vomit every thought in my head.

A light flicks on in the kitchen behind me.

"You're back," Estelle tisks. "I made dinner for you last night, you know. A heads up would've been nice."

I turn around, slinking back toward her. She's leaning her back against the fridge, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. I glance at her up and down, before shaking my head.

"I was with my brothers and sister," while I speak French her face falls. "There's something I've never told you that I think you should know."

~~~~~

I just kind of feel so much emotional catharsis. They are all so coded by that trio trend on TikTok (the archer x mirror ball x not strong enough). Like, I can't even assign any of them to a specific song because all of them feel so much there urgh.

Going to cry haha.